Need You Again
by roseatehaze
Summary: Romione Shell Cottage missing moments fic, as this is something I felt was underdeveloped in the books and film! Ron's feelings are put into perspective when he almost loses Hermione. M for some language and graphic themes/ ideas. Works as a one-shot but I may add more. R&R!


Ron felt the metallic taste of blood sting his lower lip, not daring to unclench his jaw in concentration. Despite the chaos ensuing around him, he could only focus on two things. The first was Hermione, who was slouched against him, and the weak but persistent movement of her chest rising and falling against his. The only thing stopping her from collapsing entirely was his left arm supporting her, rigid in fear. It took every ounce of self restraint to tear his eyes away from hers, full of silent tears, and clear his mind. He watched as Harry threw Bellatrix's wand, as as it soared in a perfect arch towards him. He didn't have a moment to doubt himself; their lives depended on it, and he was internally pre-occupied, chanting the mantra _destination_ , _determination_ , _deliberation_. He was already turning as his bloodied fingers touched the cool handle of the wand, and instinctively shut his eyes.

He was suddenly overwhelmed by new senses. He stumbled on soft ground, his worn shoes crunching in the damp sand. The salty scent of the sea was in the gentle breeze, pelting light but deliberate raindrops at his body. He knew he had made it but didn't dare open his eyes, scared of the sight in his arms that would await him. His body was trembling so much he could no longer tell if she was breathing, which only made him squeeze his eyelids tighter. He could only have stood like this for ten seconds, but in those ten seconds was an infinity. It was the sound of his name being called that shook him back into reality, and as his eyes refocused he saw a familiar flash of red hair running towards him.

"Ron! Ron! Ron..." Bill called out breathily, his voice mixed with a tinge of urgency Ron had never heard before. The look on his face was akin to when he found Ron on the porch of Shell Cottage at Christmas, or when their father was in hospital. He got closer, and the relief in his eyes when he was Ron was relatively unharmed was surely mirrored on Ron's own face. Ron wanted nothing more than to run into his brother's arms, but fought the instinct and pointed his wand warily.

"My- the first chocolate frog card you gave me-"

"Andros the Invincible", Bill replied, his expression of hurt quickly replaced with a nod of approval. "That's not- is she?"

Ron looked down grimly. Hermione had lost consciousness since they arrived. He tried to train his eyes on her familiar face, and not the shallow but gaping slice along her neck. Her eyelashes were fluttering slightly and his heart skipped a beat. Bill opened his mouth, probably to instruct him to cover the wound, but by this time Ron had carefully slipped off his jumper and was gently pressing it to his neck. His brother responded by bearing Hermione's weight and they began manoeuvring her to Shell Cottage. It felt like the longest walk on earth, but they eventually reached the small doorway leading to a guest room. Ron swallowed. What was next? Hermione was the one who aced healing charms... Bill seemed to be having a similar thought, and went to track down his wife. In a moment of blind inspiration, Ron remembered the small beaded bag. He muttered a hoarse _Accio_ , and watched in proud disbelief as it became visible from being tucked away in Hermione's sock.

He rummaged through the bag, only pausing to watch Hermione on the bed every few moments. When Bill re-entered the room with Fleur, he had already found the dittany, Skele-Gro, a blood replenishing potion and some pain serums. He was unsure what injuries Hermione had sustained, and explained quickly to Fleur what he knew.

"Err... we heard the cruciatus curse being used... several times... there was this knife too, the blade was definitely cursed... she was just being thrown about and-and there was nothing I could..." his voice cracked, and for all the grime on his face he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He made no effort to wipe it away. Bill stayed silent but Ron could tell questions would certainly come later. He stood, helpless as he had been at the Manor, as a shocked Fleur began working. He could hear her snatching the bottles he had laid out but forced himself to stare out of the window, not knowing how Hermione would feel about him seeing her bare body. It was something he had found himself fantasising about since their fifth year, but never like this. He watched the sea silently lapping against the sand, noticing Harry was still outside. He was about to ask why when he heard Fleur gasp and loudly exclaim "sacredieu!".

Ron whipped around, abandoning his resolve, and almost choked on thin air. Any false sense of calm he had tried to compose vanished. Hermione lay pale, but peaceful. It was evident she was breathing, as the rise-and-fall of her far too protruding ribs was visible in the absence of her clothes. Ron was unfazed by this, any sexual thoughts suppressed by fury. Her chest was marred by angry bruises, already purpling. The gash on her neck had been cleaned and was no longer bleeding, but remained open, stark against her white skin. Her right forearm bore similar, deliberate gashes and he squinted before realising what it read. What Bellatrix had carved into her skin. _Mudblood_. Ron felt sick. He backed out of the room, pushing past his brother.

"Sorry- I just-"

He found himself in the narrow hallway, with exposed whitewashed brick and no furnishing. Unable to contain himself, he threw his fist at the wall in a fit of rage. It did nothing to help his mood, but nonetheless be continued to pound the wall rhythmically. Each time it made a thud he could hear Hermione's distant screams. He shut her eyes and saw her writhing in pain under Bellatrix. Now he had seen her injuries, her knifework, his imagination grew more graphic, more vivid. He had never felt so furious, so terrified and so utterly powerless. He just punched harder until he heard a cracking noise and felt pain a second later- his knuckle.

"Damn", he muttered, not looking at his fist but the bloodied wall. " _Scourgify... Scourgify... Tergeo_..."

Once Ron was satisfied, he took a deep, shaking breath and turned back towards the guest room. He twisted the brass doorknob but before he could push it it swung open to reveal Bill. Ron hastily tried to hide his hand and dart past his brother to the bedside, but was too late. Bill put a firm hand on his shoulder and looked him up and down.

"She'll be fine. Come with me, she's not seeing you in this state when she wakes up", he said under his breath. As he guided Ron down the hall and towards the bathroom, his voice grew louder and steadier. "Fleur's almost got rid of the bruising, and the open wounds aren't closing but they've stopped bleeding. We weren't sure about her ribs, from all the- the cruciatus-" he winced "-but she's had some Skele-Gro, just in case. She might find herself short of breath for a while, but if she stays rested, she should make a full recovery. She's already stirring."

Ron let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. He flashed back to the moment on the beach, which could only have been half an hour ago, convinced she was gone. She was okay. She was okay. Bill silently handed him a cool, damp towel and watched his brother as dirt, sweat, blood and tears all swirled down the sink. At Christmas, when Bill had given Ron a razor and supervised his first clean shave, it struck him that Ron was really of age. Now, slouched over the sink, face pink from scrubbing and stoic profile betrayed by his misty eyes, his brother had never looked so young. He took Ron's hand and began studying his knuckle, determining a simple spell would suffice.

" _Episkey_!"

"Thanks."

"I didn't notice this one when you arrived", probed Bill.

"Remember the '92 League? When Charlie lost twenty galleons, 'cause the Falmouth Falcons came tenth to the Canons?" asked Ron wryly. He was so mad, he kicked a gaping hole in the broom shed and splintered his lower limb. "That was nothing. Nothing compared to how I felt when I saw what that- that hag did to Hermione. I- bloody hell, I tried to get them to take me instead but... I could just hear her screaming, in so much pain and I-"

"Who were they Ron? Who did this to her?"

"Lestrange. Greyback found us and- it was the Malfoy's place but it was that twisted bloody maniac-" Ron had to turn away and fiercely blink back the tears that were threatening to reappear.

Bill's face darkened. "Ron what the fu- what were you doing? You know Lestrange is You-Know-Who's second, if you hadn't gotten away it wouldn't have just been Hermione! The three of you could have died! Three bloody seventeen year olds! How did you even end up there?" He exploded, barely coherent but stopping when he saw the look on Ron's face.

"I told you before, it's secret... You don't think I want to tell you? You don't think it would be easier for me? It feels like it's me, Harry and Hermione against the world, and we almost lost her today! I wish I could, Bill!" Ron exclaimed. He shuddered before carrying on. "Look, I made a mistake once and I'm not leaving her again. Can I please just- just go and be there, when she wakes up?".

Bill nodded, more than aware of Ron's feelings. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wish it didn't have to be you", he mumbled, feeling embarrassed about his outburst, shyly pulling his brother in for a rare hug, which Ron awkwardly reciprocated. "Let's go".

Ron quietly shut the door behind, wincing at the loud click of the handle. He tried to walk quietly over to the chair beside the bed, stepping over the floorboard he knew creaked, as not to wake Hermione. It was too late, however; she had already reacted to the noise, her eyelashes fluttering before suddenly snapping open.

"Ron?" she asked, almost incredulously.

"Shit", he breathed, finally reassured, feeling a small but genuine smile work its way across his face. "You're- you're really?"

She returned the smile tentatively, although her body was stiff with pain and confusion clearly written across her face. "Where are... oh, your brother's? You disapparated us!".

"Yeah", he said, awkwardly scratching his ear. "Well... it was Dobby really, who saved the day... dunno how much you remember... can I?" He gestured towards a space on the bed. She nodded eagerly before wincing in pain. "How are you feeling?" he asked earnestly.

"I just ache... all over really, if ache is even the word, it's more like tingles or... would it make sense to say echo? My body is echoing?" Ron looked down, trying to hide the upset in his face.

"I guess the cruciatus curse does that", he swallowed. "I mean, you were hit with it a lot..."

"Eleven times", she said matter-of-factly. Her eyes betrayed her nonchalant tone. "I kept count. I needed to focus on something so I didn't... lose my mind. So I counted". She paused nervously. "Also... I heard you. You were calling my name. I thought of you and you kept me grounded".

They met eyes. "You've been crying", Hermione whispered.

Ron blushed slightly. He hadn't cried since Dumbledore's funeral. "Well, yeah", he admitted. "Punched the bloody wall too. I thought... when I carried you in, and you were unconscious, and so still, I thought that you were..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. He carried on looking at her instead. Beautiful. Alive. He edged closer.

"I know how you feel. Last year, your birthday, when I saw you in the hospital wing... especially after how awful I'd been to you-" Ron cringed guiltily "I couldn't bear the thought of losing you with... so much unsaid".

Ron swallowed. This was it, this was surely the moment. He had pictured dozens of scenarios; by the romantic firelight of the common room, a stroll by the Great Lake, dancing at Bill and Fleur's wedding... none of them involved her waking up from a near death experience, but-

She was leaning in slightly and he was mirroring her, she lifted up her hand to cup his cheek and- she gasped, perhaps in pain or just disgust at the wound on her forearm. _Mudblood_.

"Ron", she breathed faintly, horrified.

He gently took her forearm from his cheek, and turned it so the offending word was no longer visible. She leant into him and he embraced her, carefuly, as she silently shook against him.

"You... you know better than to believe that right?" He didn't ask, more stated. "'Cause you're bloody amazing. What you did back there... I swear I'll help you get over it, we'll get through this, I swear to God".

She was so quiet for such a long time, he thought she had fallen asleep on his chest. But he felt her breathing even before she responded. "Yeah, we will".

They stayed in this position for a little longer, until the door clicked once more and Luna wafted in, bearing a tray of tea. Hermione's face crinkled in confusion. "Luna? I thought we were at Shell Cottage?"

Ron reprimanded himself, realising how much of the story he had left out. "Yeah- well while we were, erm, separated, we found Luna, and Dean, and Ollivander, and this Goblin in Malfoy Manor. Dobby brought them here too".

A look of immense sadness washed over Luna's face at the mention of Dobby. Ron and Hermione shared a look and she confirmed their suspicion with a miserable nod. "Harry's digging a grave, outside by the sea. It's beautiful, but he's very upset. I'm so glad you two made it, though", she told them, as she set the tray down and left.

They drank their tea in a comfortable silence, not moving from each other's side. Ron finally put his cup down on the tray. "I'm going to take these down. And then, I think, I should-"

"Be with Harry", she confirmed. He made no sudden effort to move however.

"I don't want you to be alone. I'll get Luna to come sit with you, or Fleur", he said. Considering his next words carefully, he added "I agree with her. Luna. I'm glad you made it. We- I'd be done without you". Before he lost his nerve, he stroked her cheek. She lay her hand on top of his, and squeezed it tightly.

"Go on", she said. So he did.


End file.
